


Prince of Lies

by Starblown



Series: The Fate of Asgard [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Asgard, F/M, Fanfiction, Fighting, Flirting, Loki - Freeform, Loki x Isa, Marvel - Freeform, Original Character(s), Romance, Sewing, Thor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 08:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16426277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starblown/pseuds/Starblown
Summary: This is a Loki fanfic that follows the story of Isa, a young seamstress who wants so much more than her family's business of choice. She is headstrong and has always dreamed of fighting among Asgard's great warriors. She has bad blood with Thor, and when Loki starts to take interest in her, she wonders if he's more like his brother than he thinks...





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My best friend who has supported me in writing this!](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+best+friend+who+has+supported+me+in+writing+this%21).



> This is my first fanfic on ao3. I hope you like it!  
> please comment and give me feedback!  
> (I'm not afraid of criticism)

The first time I remember seeing the palace from a distance was when I was five. There was a parade that started from the Bifrost and ended at the palace gates. The Asgardian populace lined the streets, cheering and waving. I don’t remember what the parade was celebrating, or any other “important” details. I remember the palace though, shining in all its glory. I remember wanting to be there, craving it. The longing was incredible. But not everybody got to live in the palace. To work in it was an honor.  
So it was shocking that my wish came true.  
My family has a legacy of tailoring. Skilled in their craft, my ancestors have passed down their skill from generation to generation. I was eight when my mother told me that our family was going to live and work in the palace. Glee is the emotion I remember from that time. Other feelings came to pass. Joy at being allowed (finally) to help with even the simplest tasks, grief at the death of my father (even though I hardly knew him), admiration at my mother’s strength, hate directed toward my six older sisters, and most primarily of all, loneliness.  
In town I had playmates, I could not call them friends. Not truly. They were people who I knew, yet cared naught about. The feeling of loneliness remains, even though the years fell away. I’m now sixteen, a “lady”. That annoys me. I don’t want to be “refined” or “delicate”. I want to be determined, strong, not something that is simply pleasing to look at. My sisters don’t agree.  
They’re not that awful, really. I just don’t agree with them. About anything.  
“Isa!”  
My sister Lizia’s voice jerks me out of my thoughts. I look down at the waistcoat that I’m supposed to be finishing. I wince because the garment is barely halfway done.  
“What did she do now?” said Elisiani, the eldest at 22. Mother had us in quick succession, a daughter each year, perfectly spaced. Even though I was close in age to my sisters Rania and Taowyn, they seemed endlessly younger than me. The things they’re interested in (sewing, gossiping, flirting) have nothing to do what I’m interested in.  
Looking down at the waistcoat in dismay, for it had to be finished today, I buried my head in my hands. Lizia’s always trying to seem older than she is (she’s 19 and it never works) and she does so now, firmly admonishing me about my many faults. I must have tuned her out, because she’s stopped talking now, waiting for my response.  
“I’m very sorry. I’ll hurry up.”  
I won’t. She knows it. I know it. And evidently, mother knows it too.  
“Isa, come here.”  
Quin turns her head toward me. She’s the second oldest at 21.  
I set down my work carefully and walk over toward mother’s station. She hands me a huge parcel of clothes. She motions for me to draw closer.  
“These are for prince Thor. I don’t trust any of the other girls to go, I know they’d spend endless amounts of time fawning over him and never get back here to their work. Don’t worry about the waistcoat. I’ll finish it.”  
As much as I despise Thor, I can’t pass up an opportunity to get out of our small, cramped workroom. I throw my apron on a hood by the door and rush out into the corridors of the castle. I know it seems odd for me to hate the prince, for he is much beloved by the populace. Through working in the palace, I’ve seen the anger in him. The arrogance. I can’t tell anyone else about my feelings, because everyone adores him, even mother. And it’s treason.  
I barrel down the halls, grateful for a chance to move my limbs. I can’t see very well over the clothing I’m holding in my arms, but I don’t even care. And then, quick as a wink, I’m flat on my back, the clothing is in the air, and my dignity is lost.  
“Hey!” I shout. Then I lower my voice and stand.  
“You should look where yo-”  
I stop mid-sentence. The person who ran into me is none other than the prince.  
But not Thor.  
Loki.


	2. chapter two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second chapter!   
> hope you enjoy!

He grins at my gaping expression. I feel faint. I can’t believe that I just yelled at the prince. The prince who knows magic. Will I be turned into a toad for knocking into him? Servants have gotten thrown out for less. I bow low to the ground.  
“Your, Highness, I’m very sorry. I didn’t realize who...I-”  
“Hush.” He said.   
“The fault is mine...as you stated earlier.” He grinned again, then offered me his hand to lift me from the ground. I took his hand, which dwarfed mine by comparison.   
“I’m so very sorry”  
“Stop apologizing.”  
“Alright.”  
He looks at me, and I at him, then I realize that I have places to be...other than looking into his dreamy eyes-wait what?  
I am not the type who falls in love with guys within seconds. I’ve seen that happen to my sisters, and nothing good ever came from that. They said that all their affairs were good...until they ended of course. Then they would mope for days. That’s when I decided that I would not under any circumstance, fall in love. I think my heart has a mind of its own.  
Because it won’t stop pounding.  
“Are you...alright?”  
He asks, looking at me questioningly. I take a deep breath in and answer.  
“No, I’m fine thank you. I have a very important meeting.”  
I say as I pick up the garments strewn across the lush flooring. He looks at me, bemused.   
“A meeting, you say?”  
“Yes.”  
“That includes...these?”  
He says, picking up a pair of billowing maroon red pants. I blush, then straighten my spine.  
“Yes, including those. Now, if you don’t mind too terribly, please hand them over and let me deliver these to your brother.”   
“My brother.”  
His voice went flat, the playful grin wiped off his face.   
“Yeah.”  
I guess my disdain wasn’t hidden either, cause I found myself scowling. Thor and I have history. When I first got here, at the palace, Thor was a little spoiled brat (he still is) and he tried to order me around. I was only eight, so I didn’t understand the consequences of disobedience. He did. He ordered me beaten (of course that didn’t really happen) but I’ve remembered.  
So when Loki looked at me in confusion, obviously not understanding my hate.   
“I’ll take it from your tone that you are not...pleased with the prospect of serving Thor.”  
I lifted my chin and shot back,  
“And you sound like you’re scared.”  
He stepped toward me, inches away, face contorted in anger. The pants were clenched in his hand, creasing the fabric.  
“I. Am. Not. Scared. Of him. Or anything. And you would be a fool to believe that.”  
I wince, cowering under him, for it’s only now that I realize how tall he is, a full head above me. I’m not even that short.   
“I’m sorry, your Highness.”   
I step back, curtsying.   
“Wait.”  
I pause. Looking back at him, my heart lurches. Stop it! I tell myself. I can’ afford to fall in-  
“I’m...sorry. Please don’t leave.”  
He looks like a lost puppy dog, abandoned, lonely, desperate. His eyes are like-STOP. I’m practically screaming at myself at this point.  
“Okay…”  
I say tentatively.  
“Here.”  
He hands me the pants, the silk rumpled and messy. I take it and fold it neatly. I look at him again, I can’t tear my eyes off of his conflicted face.   
“Would you meet me again tomorrow? Here? Same time?”  
I find the answer escaping my lips before I can grab it and reel it in.  
“Yes.”  
I’m normally level-headed, but I’m shocked at myself. A meeting with a boy? A boy who’s a prince? A god? My sisters would be screaming in glee. I, however, find myself reeling with horror.   
What have I done?


End file.
